


In the Arms of the Angel

by morthael



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Angst, Gen, Psychological, i'm kidding i'm so sorry shinji ;_;, shinji is a butt and misato is a Good Guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morthael/pseuds/morthael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Classical music helps Shinji to remember. Something left to hold the tattered shreds of his sanity. The SDAT player was more than something to shut out the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Arms of the Angel

**Author's Note:**

> The fusion of my piano nerdiness and the abundance of music I can work with in NGE. Each act represents a movement of Beethoven's Pathétique sonata, and the inspiration from the title comes from Angel by Sarah McLachlan. I recommend you go listen.

**I**

Music floated down the corridor, echoing slightly as it bounced off chilly walls. Shinji recognised the tune but couldn’t put a name to it; a Beethoven sonata, he thought. He heard piano keys singing _cantabile_ in equal parts sweetness and emotion.

One hand trailing behind on the wall, Shinji followed the sound of the music, footsteps ringing softly. The air was quiet but free, cold in a way that raised the hair on his arms. He let go of the wall, the arm falling back to his side.

The music was reflective now, so quiet that Shinji had to strain his ears to hear the melody. He recalled the name now; the _Pathétique_ Sonata, named because of the depth of emotion contained within the piece.

Shinji approached a door, light shining through the gap underneath, illuminating the cold hallway. The corridor behind and in front of him seemed to blur, the stark white door only remaining in focus. Shinji heard music emanating from within, and he stepped forward, pushing the door open.

Sunlight flooded into him, blinding Shinji with its brilliance. When he could see again, he lowered arms that he hadn’t even known he had raised, properly taking in the room around him.

It was a great chamber, floor made of marble and walls impossibly tall. The ceiling arched like an old Renaissance church, but the most awing part of the room was –

One entire wall did not exist, and in its absence sunlight streamed in, gold-white and warm. A soft breeze fluttered around Shinji’s collar, and if he strained hard enough he could almost see the tops of green trees. The far wall was an expanse of blue sky and lazy white clouds, painting the hall with an ethereal cast.

Shinji’s gaze drifted down, down to the unmistakable rich timbres of piano strings. A grand piano sat at the far edge of the chamber, sunlight catching on the raised lid and reflecting back at him. It was polished, gleaming – no, glowing in the light.

A sudden otherworldly disbelief gripped Shinji as he saw tufts of silver hair hovering above the keys. His breath hitched, and he stumbled forward, a thousand things bubbling up inside his throat, ready to spill.

“Kaworu-kun –” was all he managed before the music stopped abruptly, pale hands lowering from the keyboard.

Kaworu stood, a crooked smile upon his lips. He stepped backwards even as Shinji staggered forward, arms outstretched as if tauntingly inviting a welcome. Every step Shinji took seemed to double the distance between them, and he reached out, desperation renewing his strength.

“Kaworu, I’m sorry!” he cried, as Kaworu raised his head. Sunlight seemed to catch on his hair, forming a halo around his head.

“It is time to go,” he said gently, and stepped backwards into air.

Shinji’s hands seized at nothing as Kaworu toppled backwards, out of the chamber, falling all over again. The wind ripped at his clothes as he fell, and Shinji lay on his side at the edge of the hall, one arm fruitlessly outstretched. The light began to darken, and for a moment he could see blood on his right hand, marking him.

**II**

He woke.

Shinji was sweaty in his sheets, but shivering with barely repressed feeling. His SDAT player was gripped firmly in his right hand, a painfully crushing grip. As his breathing slowed down, he became aware of the music, still playing even after he had fallen asleep.

_Pathétique_ Sonata, second movement, melancholy and moving. Shinji laughed hollowly, turning onto his side and clutching at the pillow. Tears slid from squeezed shut eyes, slipping past the bridge of his nose and leaving coolness wherever they tracked. He scrubbed at them, hunching his shoulders, and tucked his legs closer to him, his body stiff and tense.

_Dreaming. Again._

Shinji pressed fingers against his eyelids, trying to sear the image of a bloody, mangled corpse away, trying to burn away the slick feel of blood against his – _the Eva’s –_ hands, trying to will away the sight of silver hair and a white uniform whistling through space...

He rocketed upwards, a gurgling breath swallowing sweet night air. Throwing his sheets back, Shinji stumbled out of his room, unsteady strides through the darkened living room, banging clumsily against furniture, tearing through the threshold of the door.

The night was velvety and cool against his skin, and so high up Shinji couldn’t help but admire the view, the changeable streets below and the few, beautiful trees, an autumn glow in their leaves.

He let out a shuddering breath, fogging the air briefly before it was snatched away. From within, Shinji thought he heard Misato, probably awake because of his careless exit. He ignored it, instead leaning against the railing and sliding his eyes shut.

_Kaworu falling through air, arms outstretched, calling –_

Shinji’s eyes snapped open and he lunged forward, the railing digging painfully into his ribs. Tears sprang to his eyes at the sudden shock and then he overbalanced, unable to draw even draw a breath to scream, arms wheeling madly through the air...

Arms clasped around his chest, tugging him back from oblivion. Shinji collapsed against the low wall, the only thing separating him from the pavement below. Above him, Misato stared him down, imposing even in flannel pyjamas.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

A pause. “I couldn’t sleep,” Shinji murmured meekly, eyes cast downwards. Misato reached down and seized him by the arm, ignoring the aborted flinch from unexpected contact.

“You’re going to catch a cold. You could have fallen!” she continued, relentless. “You could have died!”

Tugging, Misato pulled Shinji to his feet, propelling him back indoors.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he whispered numbly, inaudibly. There was snot in his nose and pressure building in his throat, and Shinji was more scared than he would admit that he was _seeing things,_ he was hallucinating, Kaworu was dead – _dead! –_ and he could have sworn that that was real, he was going mad...

Palming the door shut, Misato marched Shinji to a kitchen chair, pushing him down with a stare that brooked no argument.

“What is wrong?” she said sharply, a hand on the back of the chair. Shinji shifted, shrinking in on himself, and Misato’s scowl lessened. The hand dropped, and she knelt down next to him, taking his hands in her own and clasping them firmly. “What is wrong?” she repeated, softer.

Shinji _wanted_ to speak. He had so many words – so many things to say – so much, too much to be expressed in mere language –

And so he remained silent, the angry build-up of nonsense words crouched low in his throat, simmering away into nothing.

Misato didn’t see any of this, didn’t understand Shinji. She looked bleakly at him for a few moments more, and then, sighing, turned on her heel and left. The screen sliding shut echoed like a thunderclap as she retreated into her room.

Shinji bowed over in his chair, gripping his knees with white knuckled fingers. The tears weren’t coming anymore, but he felt the push of gravity, heavy against his back, too heavy for his shoulders to support. He tasted bile, thick and bitter on his tongue. He swallowed.

A flash of white from the corner of Shinji’s vision caught his attention, and he jerked upwards.

_“Shinji-kun...”_

Nothing. Shinji swallowed again, closing his eyes. The nausea rose again.

Dark rings under his eyes. He wouldn’t sleep tonight.

**III**

Shinji didn’t recall ever being afraid of heights. He supposed it would have been bad if he had been, considering the monster that he piloted. Now, all he felt was the somewhat apprehensive thrill of looking out onto the street from so far up, the SDAT player in his hand looking so very fragile at the height where he stood.

He pressed play, the earphones coming to life. _Pathétique,_ movement three, fast with barely controlled energy. The cord flapped around dangerously in the wind.

Bare feet sank firmly into cement, toes curling at the slight damp and cold. Shinji looked out at New Tokyo-3 from atop his perch at the very edge of the balcony of his and Misato’s apartment. He was almost motionless, a few centimetres away from a fatal drop.

A blue car screeched to a stop a hundred metres below him, and Shinji watched with interest as Misato jumped out, no bigger than an ant from the balcony.

He rocked back as she jerked her head upwards, staring him down even in the distance. How had she known he was...?

“Shinji, what the _fuck_ are you doing up there?” she yelled, and Shinji wasn’t sure but he thought her hands, rigid with tension, might have been clenched by her sides.

What _was_ he doing? Shinji didn’t answer, but gazed down bemusedly instead.

Misato was frozen in shock. Her heart had felt like it was going to leap out of her chest when she was driving up the street – seeing Shinji kneeling on the outer wall of the balcony had driven all the breath out of her body.

“Get down, _now!_ ” she shouted. “I mean it, damn it! Get down before you break your god damn neck!”

Shinji still didn’t move, each passing moment heart-stoppingly terrifying. Misato’s thoughts were running haywire in her mind – gods, the boy was so _god damn fragile_ it looked like a stiff wind would push him over.

Heart pounding, Misato tried one last time. “Just – just stay there!” she shouted up at him. “I’m coming up. Just stay, _please!_ ”

Abandoning any form of dignity, she ripped off her heels and sprinted for the door, ignoring the elevator and instead taking the stairs three at a time.

Shinji stood, blinking down at where Misato had been standing mere moments ago. Then, he walked along the edge of the barrier, until he reached the part where barrier met wall and roof, stopping and placing a hand on weather-beaten tiles.

Hesitatingly, he looked at the SDAT, before coming to a decision and reluctantly pulling the earphones out, setting the player to the side. With both hands, he then grasped at the roof and pushed himself up, struggling a little. With a final push and a kick of his feet, Shinji was crouched on the roof, the highest height in this area of Tokyo-3, towering above all neighbouring buildings.

He heard pounding as Misato stormed into the apartment, a kind of sick desperation fuelling her speed. Shinji backed away, going further down the rooftop.

Here, he breathed in sweet, fresh air, sunlight bathing him, wind caressing his cheeks, hair, phantom touches that were welcomed. The crease in his brow smoothed, and the thin gash of his mouth evened, becoming fuller.

“Shinji? Shinji!” Misato was almost at the balcony, her voice pleading.

Shinji ignored her, and stepped to the edge of the roof. Pocketing his hands, he was content to let the wind ruffle his hair. Closing his eyes, he thought he heard piano music, lilting and soothing to the ear.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw an angel, silver hair and a pale, open face, warm, sparkling red eyes. He hovered in front of Shinji, arms outstretched.

Warmth flooded to Shinji’s eyes, and he reached out, just centimetres from brushing fingers. “Kaworu?” he whispered, the low tone slightly broken with hesitance.

Red eyes shined with warmth. “I am here, Shinji-kun.”

Shinji stepped out into air and embraced him.     

          


End file.
